Friday, September 8, 2017

Russian Easters, 1916

       Easter begins with a midnight service; but on the evening before, samples of the principal dishes to be used on the following day are brought into the church or placed on the outside steps, in order that they may share the blessing. Among these, truncated pyramids of curds and colored eggs are conspicuous. The streets are deserted, except in the neighborhood of the sacred buildings ; but these are filled to overflowing on this one occasion in the year, so that in the larger towns late comers must be content to view the ceremonies through the glass screen with which the more important churches are provided. At St. Petersburg all the higher officials are expected to attend the Imperial Chapel, which is not large enough to contain a tenth of their number. The rest walk up and down, and form a kind of conversazione outside. All through Passion Week the services have been gloomy, the altar has been denuded of its ornaments, and the priests have appeared only in black robes. Even on Easter Eve only such lamps are lighted as are absolutely necessary to allow the worshipers to take their places in an orderly way. As soon as midnight is past the priests appear in white garments, intoning the Easter hymn; and, when the tones are heard, the altar and the whole building are brilliantly lighted, as suddenly as the means at the disposal of the authorities will permit. The exterior of the building is also illuminated, and where but a few minutes before all was darkness and gloom there is now a little island of light. The men are dressed in their best clothes, the women are all in white. After some ceremonies, the procession of priests passes down the aisle and round the exterior of the building. Everywhere the greeting " Christ hath risen," with the response "Yea, He hath risen," may be heard; and the customary three kisses are given. Lent is over, and Easter has begun. The service, including the blessing of the food and the first Easter Mass, lasts till between two and three; after it is finished, the families return to their homes to break their long fast, and invite such of their friends as they may meet to accompany them. A large table is spread in the greatest room with all the delicacies and customary dishes of the season. In the good old times it was expected that the higher nobles should keep it fully furnished till Whitsuntide, and every one who entered the house was welcome to eat what he would standing by it ; but this custom has fallen into disuse, except perhaps in the most distant districts.
      The peasantry, hospitable as they are always, and more especially at this season of the year, cannot, of course, indulge in such excessive display; but they have observances of their own, particularly in Southern Russia. Before he goes to church with all his family, the countryman must take care that some log is left burning in the stove, or some lamp before the image of a saint, at which the Easter candles can be lighted. To forget this is not only to bring ill luck upon the house, but also to show oneself religiously indifferent ; in short, to be a most objectionable kind of person. Yet even for this sin there is forgiveness. . .
       Whenever a few compatriots are gathered together, when the Russian Easter comes, whatever their political or religious opinions may be, the old table will be spread, the old greetings will be exchanged, and the old dishes as far as possible reproduced or imitated; for, quite apart from the religious aspect of the festival, Easter is for the Russian what Christmas is for the German -- above all things, a family gathering. Both are celebrated with pomp at Court, both are duly commemorated in church, but it is not in these facts that their attraction consists. They are loved and ob- served because they recall memories of childhood -- and because they furnish a yearly opportunity of renewing old friendships and making up new differences.

The Bells of Kremlin

       Though the tower of Ivan Veliki is the finest belfry in Russia, it has no special beauty, but being two hundred and sixty-nine feet high, towers finely above all the other buildings of the Kremlin in the distant views. Halfway up is a gallery, whence the sovereigns from Boris to Peter the Great used to harangue the people. The exquisite bells are only heard in perfection on Easter Eve at midnight. On the preceding Sunday (Palm Sunday) the people have resorted in crowds to the Kremlin to buy branches, artificial flowers, and boughs with waxen fruits to hang before their icons. On Holy Thursday the Metropolitan has washed the feet of twelve men, representing the Apostles, in the cathedral, using the dialogue recorded in John xii. Then at midnight on Easter Eve the great bell sounds, followed by every other bell in Moscow; the whole city blazes into light; the tower of Ivan Veliki is illuminated from its foundation to the cross on its summit. The square below is filled with a motley throng, and around the churches are piles of Easter cakes, each with a taper stuck in it, waiting for a blessing. The interior of the Church of the Rest of the Virgin is thronged by a vast multitude bearing waxed tapers. The Metropolitan and his clergy, in robes blazing with gold and precious stones, have made the external circuit of the church three times, and then, through the great doors, have advanced towards the throne between myriads of lights. No words can describe the colors, the blaze, the roar of the universal chant. Descending from the throne, the Metropolitan has incensed the clergy and the people, and the clergy have incensed the Metropolitan, whilst the spectators have bowed and crossed themselves incessantly. After a service of two hours the Metropolitan has advanced, holding a cross which the people have thronged to kiss. He has then retired to sanctuary, whence, as Ivan Veliki begins to toll, followed by a peal from a thousand bells announcing the stroke of midnight, he emerges in a plain purple robe, and announces, "Christos voscres!" Christ is risen. Then kisses of love are universally exchanged, and, most remarkable of all the Metropolitan, on his hands and knees, crawls around the church kissing the icons on the walls, the altars, and the tombs, and, through their then opened sepulchers, the incorruptible bodies of the saints. After this no meetings take place without the salutation "Christos voscres," and the answer, "Vo istine voscres " (He is risen). Augustus J. G. C. Hare

A Madrigal

A Madrigal
by Clinton Scollard

Easter-glow and Easter-gleam !
Lyric laughter from the stream
That between its banks so long
Murmured such a cheerless song;
Stirrings faint and fine and thin
Every woodsy place within ;
Root and tendril, bough and bole.
Rousing with a throb of soul ;
The old ecstasy awake
In the briar and the brake;
Blue-bird raptures -- dip and run --
And the robin-antiphon ;
Tingling air and trembling earth,
And the crystal cup of mirth
Brimmed and lifted to the lip
For each one of us to sip.
Dream! -- 'tis something more than dream,
Easter-glow and Easter-gleam!
Prescience 'tis, and prophecy
Of the wonder that shall be
When the spirit leaps to light
After death's heimal night!

The Barren Easter

Parable of the seed sower. Those who sow
seed do not always harvest, but must wait
to see God's rewards in the here after.

The Barren Easter
by Clinton Scollard

It was the barren Easter,
And o'er Pamello plain,
Where'er the sweeping eye might rove,
From beechen grove to beechen grove.
Greened neither grass nor grain.

It was the barren Easter;
By vale and windy hill,
Where blossoms tossed on yester year,
Now bourgeoned no narcissus spear,
And glowed no daffodil.

It was the barren Easter,
And toward the grinding-floor,
A store of wheat within his pack,
Along the dreary meadow-track
Went good Saint Isadore.

It was the barren Easter,
And when the sweet saint came
To where a mighty live-oak spread,
A host of wrens and starlings red
Seemed crying out his name.

It was the barren Easter,
And to his ears their cry
Rang plaintively, "O Isadore,
Grant us thy pity, we implore!

Give succor, or we die! "
It was the barren Easter
When wide he flung his store.
And all the feathered folk of air
Sped whirring downward for their share
From kind Saint Isadore.

It was the barren Easter
And onward to the mill
Along the dreary meadow-track.
The empty bags within his pack,
The good saint plodded still.

It was the barren Easter;
He scarce knew why he went,
Save that he did not dare return
To face his master, grim and stem.
Now all his grain was spent.

It was the barren Easter;
When at the miller's feet
He cast the sacks in dull despair,
Behold, he saw them open there
Abrim with golden wheat !

It was the barren Easter;
Oh, meager are men's words
To tell how He that rose that day.
And drove the wraith of Death away,
Helped him who fed the birds!

Easter Even

Easter Even
by Margaret French Patton

Our dear Lord now is taken from the cross,
His bruised body wrapped in linen cool.
And laid by loving hands in Joseph's tomb;
Outraged Nature bows her head and sleeps;
The guard is set; Jerusalem is still.

Ye sleeping buds, break
Open your green cerements, and wake
To fragrant blossoming for His sweet sake;
To-morrow will be Easter day,
And I would have my garden gay
On Easter day.

Ye home-bound birds, take
Swift-winged flight, that from my budding brake
Your joyful hallelujahs ye may make;
To-morrow will be Easter day.
And I would have my garden gay
On Easter day.

Ye strolling winds, shake
Out your drooping sails, and heavenward take
The songs and sweet aromas for His sake;
To-morrow will be Easter day.
And I would have my garden gay
On Easter day.

Early in the morning while 'tis dark,
Like Mary Magdalen, with spices rare,
I, too, shall hasten to my garden fair
To seek, our risen Lord. Who knows? For love
Of birds and buds He may be walking there.

An Easter Carol

 An Easter Carol
by Christina G. Rossetti

Spring bursts to-day,
For Christ is risen and all the earth's at play.

Flash forth, thou Sun,
The rain is over and gone, its work is done.

Winter is past,
Sweet Spring is come at last, is come at last.

Bud, Fig and Vine,
Bud, Olive, fat with fruit and oil and wine.

Break forth this morn
In roses, thou but yesterday a thorn.

Uplift thy head,
O pure white Lily through the Winter dead.

Beside your dams
Leap and rejoice, you merry-making Lambs.

All Herds and Flocks
Rejoice, all Beasts of thickets and of rocks.

Sing, Creatures, sing,
Angels and Men and Birds and everything. 
 

Wednesday, September 6, 2017

Father

Father
by S. E. Kiser

When all my other debts are paid
My greatest debt will yet be due
For sacrifices you have made
And cares that I have brought to you.

I have been slow to understand
The patience and the love and pride
With which for my sake you have planned,
Your own ambitions put aside.

When others have withheld from me
The praise that I have longed to hear,
You, Father, have been quick to see
And glad to speak the word of cheer.

With eager efforts you have sought
To smooth my paths and make them fair,
Unselfishly expecting naught
In payment for your tender care.

I have been slow to learn, but now,
With recollections that are sweet,
I braid a laurel for your brow
And lay my tribute at your feet.